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April 20th, 2013 This morning I woke up lying in the aftermath of my week in Boston. A week that I could never, even in my writer’s imagination, have imagined. I needed to keep my lens, through which I focus the week’s happenings, adjusted properly. I knew today was going to be a day of coming down, coming home, and landing in my everyday world, forever changed by my Boston week. And I did want the landing to be soft…soft and kind.
First things first. Morning tea in my own chair – news on TV. Just one of the small things I didn’t know I loved so much until I was away from it for a week. I knew a workout was in order to get the bones in gear after the first night in my own bed. After a great workout at fit club, I came home to lunch and a text from my Boston daughter:
“Dayna and I are headed to Fenway today to drink, watch the games and celebrate Boston like a true Bostonian.”
Yay. Good for her. She landed and found a lens with which to deal with the trauma that held her city hostage this week. I admired and felt her Bostonian pride. I live on Cape Cod, but just being up there teaching for the week during this, had my heart ringing with a little camaraderie too. I spent the week with a WONDERFUL family that offered to share their home with me for the week, making it possible for me to do the children’s workshop in their town. We instantly bonded on Monday and that bond strengthened throughout the week as we sat huddled over the news reports all week long. They had a young child so we kept the TV off. We fed our curiosity via the Internet and they offered me the comfort of not being alone like I would’ve been had I stayed on Cape.
After lunch I sat down with a blanket and the Red Sox pre-game ceremony started on TV. That’s it. I lost it. Tears. Here ya go if you haven’t seen this video:
Red Sox Pre-Game Ceremony
See what I mean?
My daughter was at the Cask N Flagon outside Fenway and texted how the whole bar sang the National Anthem. Good for her. I’m glad she’s left in a good place in her city she loves so.
4:00 my husband and I made our way to the West Parish of Barnstable for the 4:30 service. The band, Skywatch, was playing and I wanted to go see my yoga buddy Jo-Anne sing. It just seemed fitting to end this week, and begin another, with something to do with God. The pastor quoted my other friend’s blog on Finding Perspective that I cited on Monday. He reiterated finding the proper lens to view this tragedy, not letting it color our outlook with negativity.
I think I found it. It was in the eyes of the children I worked with all week. It was in the gentle hospitality my host family showed me. It was in the Red Sox pre-game show. It was in the camaraderie my daughter found at Fenway today. It was in the soul-searching music my friend sang about in church tonight.
And so, as another day goes by, it’s embedded in my heart tonight that people are stronger than they appear, the good in this world far outweighs the bad, I have landed softly, and …I have written.
April 19th, 2013 …then there was today. Yesterday was day 4 of my Young Authors Workshop. The children were very excited because the next day they were doing “author readings” in the store and the local newspaper was coming. They spent the better part of the class finishing the illustrations for their books they were going to share and practicing public speaking. Day four was a huge success and I was flying high as I headed to Sudbury to find the local Koko Fit Club. I had a great workout and the day ended with a beautiful dinner with my friend Stephanie who owns the store. Getting home quite late, the big reception for this morning weighing on my mind, I went to bed without posting. I didn’t even notice until late this afternoon.
And then there was today. I woke up at about 6:15 and turned on the news to wake up slowly. So much for that idea. The first thing I heard was Alston Brighton under lockdown. My daughter lives there. I jumped up and began texting her not to go to work. She answers I know, Mom, I’ve been up since 5 am. The outer lying towns around Boston, next to Lexington where I was, were also locked down. Great. I have kids, parents and the newspaper heading to the store at 11 am for our reception. By 10 am we decided to go ahead with it. (All the while my daughter is in the back of my mind.) I felt like I was stretched between two emotions – fear for her and excitement for the kids.
The reception and readings were awesome. The kids really came through. They introduced themselves and their work. They read loud and with expression. They received awards that they had voted on amongst themselves, highlighting each one’s special talent, they talked with authority to the reporter – I couldn’t have been prouder of them. I so wish I had a picture, but I was the MC and in the state I was in, I neglected to have someone take them with my phone. (The sight of my phone only represented my daughter’s texts.)
By 1pm it was all over and I slid onto 95 south and snuck out of Boston. I arrived home on Cape Cod by 2:30 and crashed. I was still a little worried leaving my daughter up there, but she assured me she was fine and I should go home.
I finally dragged myself out of my chair at 6:30 and with the help of a little Dunkin Donuts, made my way to the store to get food for hubby who was two hours away. In the store my daughter texts me that the T is running and the lockdown was lifted. I put on the TV when I got home and see the suspect is trapped in a boat in a backyard in Watertown. I text my daughter and tell her. She replies, “It’s a good thing because I’m headed to a bar in Brookline. I plugged in my curling iron as soon as the ban was lifted!”
I guess she’s fine. I’m fine too. A little beat up, but fine. I poured a glass of red (it’s definitely not a white night) and I’m sitting here waiting for my husband, glad the suspect is contained, my daughter is safe, thankful no more people are getting hurt, and Stephanie and I pulled out a wonderful last day for our young writers.
And so, as another day goes by, (I’m glad to let this day go by) we will all be okay out here in eastern mass, and …I have finally written.
I’m proud – I have to share the bright spots of the day:
Getting ready!
Finished products!
April 17th, 2013 Day three of my Young Authors Workshop was Illustration Day. We met my illustrator friend, Lynne Chapman from the UK, via website. The children saw video of how she goes about illustrating a book and then watched her do an actual page from her studio. Next they used Lynne’s how to draw lessons on her website to draw a goat, an anaconda, and a mouse. They were amazed at their own skill.
After completing all three drawings we discussed the story arc of one of Lynne’s books, “Big Bad Wolf is Good”, after which the children chose one of their own drawings, named the character, and wrote their own story.
I can’t believe the effort I saw today. All six children were deep into their literary endeavor, with music playing in the background, for the full three hours. Their work is below, and tells the full story of the day.
And so, as another Young Authors day goes by, I’m still constantly surprised and impressed with the skill and imagination of our very youngest writers, and…I have written.
Full speed ahead:
April 16th, 2013 This morning I got up and set to work going out to do what I needed to do today along with all the other Bostonians all around me. A friend of mine wrote a blog entitled Finding Perspective that I read just before leaving the house. Not being up here in the city or being connected to anyone involved, she was having a hard time putting a lens on this tragic event. I so understood her. Even though I felt a connection because I was here and my daughter was walking home on the streets of Boston during the event, trying to find perspective on why an eight year old boy had to die hugging his father as he crossed the finish line lies beyond a boundary we cannot fathom.
When it came time for me to leave the house I had a perspective through which I was going to view my day. It turned out that I also had a connection to the eight year old that died. He and his family are friends of someone in my bible study group and I received an email requesting prayer. So I prayed. But now what? Now I go to work. Today I had the pleasure of spending the better part of my day with eight and nine year olds that are very much alive. Alive, and full of questions and comments over this horrific act. My job today was to give my time and attention to them.
Today was day two of my Young Authors Workshop. The children bounced into the room already to dig in. They had a great time yesterday and had unfinished stories, poems, and illustrations in their Work In Progress folders that they were anxious to get to. When they entered the room I had some instrumental music playing and told them that meant a quiet time to spend with their Writers Notebook. Yesterday we learned about four things we could put in our notebooks. One was “fierce wonderings”, meaning things we see and hear that just won’t leave our brains. Things that we think about over and over in our mind. Four out of the six children wrote about the sad event, describing what had happened. It was a gentle way of letting them quiet their nagging minds. There, it was dealt with. Time to move on.
We proceeded with the topics for today and pretty soon they were busy and engaged in writing “Nutsy News Stories”, quietly putting aside the tragic one. It was a fun project. First they had to cut 25 words out of a newspaper. Then they had to arrange the words into a goofy headline such as “Arlington Volleyballs Lost Their Butter” and proceed to write the news stories to go with the headline. Needless to say we were giggling from the get-go. The day ended on a high note with everyone smiling and feeling extremely accomplished.
My mission? Also accomplished. In the wake of the devastation, I jumped into the morning commute alongside the Bostonians and validated their persistence and strength in the face of such a thing. The tragedy caused me to view the job I had to do today just a little more importantly and with a bit more focus than yesterday.
And so, as another day goes by, I’ll leave you wondering about butter and volleyballs, the children were taken care of, I feel extreme peace tonight, and… I have written (and maybe found some perspective).
Fully engaged!
April 15th, 2013 After such a wonderful first day of teaching my Young Authors Workshop to a fabulous group of children, I came home to the devastation that hit our beautiful city today. An amazing family is hosting me for my work up here in Boston this week and it felt good to be with them tonight instead being home alone. All afternoon I worried about my daughter getting home from work. I breathed a sigh of relief when I knew she made it. (She walked and somehow that made me more nervous) We were all pretty shaken by the events of the day so about 6 pm we just turned off the tv and had a peaceful dinner. It wasn’t much past 7:30 and we were all so tired, but it was too early to go to bed. The daughter, a lovely girl named Shira ( beautiful name) suggested a game of Scrabble to keep us up until at least nine. It worked, along with a glass of wine. I don’t think we realized the emotional toll this event took on us. Now, 10 pm, we all retired to our respective rooms to get some much needed rest.
I climbed into bed and the images still float through my mind. After the images comes the same question over and over: why? Once again there are mentally disturbed and unhappy people who can only try to sooth their own suffering by taking others down with them. This time it had nothing to do with guns. What is the common denominator among all the mass killings? Hurt people. Because hurt people, hurt people. Even those that come prowling around our country from other countries are disturbed and hurt in many different ways and they derive some sort of reprieve from mass injury.
Boston is hurting tonight. I’ve lived near this beautiful city for almost four years now and spent a lot of time up here on those very streets. I stood in front of that Walgreens many times. Here in Lexington yesterday and today the celebration of Patriot Day was done with much pomp and circumstance. Yesterday streets were closed for hours as the flags waved in a parade celebrating pride in our land. And today we face devastating destruction that we just don’t understand. But we have been here before, and as awful as it is, it won’t keep the people of this city down for long.
And so, as another day goes by, I sit in quiet prayer for the lives lost and people injured, I admire the resolve in this city that the terrorists will not win, I still, hours later, am trying to absorb fully what took place today, and…I have written – with a very heavy heart.
April 14th, 2013 So excited I can barely write – that’s a good thing, right? Today I leave for Boston to teach my first week long Young Authors Workshop. As of last night we have seven third and fourth graders who want to spend their school vacation writing! Yes, eight and nine year olds who CHOOSE to spend their school vacation WRITING! That right there is enough to inspire me to keep plugging away with my iTeach project.
I spent years teaching writing to five year olds and saw some amazing talent in our youngest writers and my work with these children inspired me to create iTeach. Most writers I talk to never thought about young children participating in writing courses outside of school. Many courses are offered for middle and high school students on vacations and in the summer, but over and over I have heard parents complain that there is nothing offered for our youngest children. I created iTeach in response to this need and LOOK, seven young children want to “write away” their vacation.
We are going to have a great time this week. We will be learning “to live a writing kind of life” by establishing and keeping a writers notebook as close as a best friend. We are going to expand our author’s creative mind by doing very cool, out of the box activities, and perhaps the most fun day of all will be Illustration Day where we will meet children’s book illustrator Lynne Chapman via her website and become “our own kind of artist”.
Stay tuned daily, as I will be blogging from Writing Under the Moon in Boston and bring you the stunning talent of our youngest authors.
And so, as another day goes by, I get chills just thinking – what if even one child grows up to be a writer?, wow, and…I have written.
April 13th, 2013 If some of you remember last year my author friend, Joan Walsh, launched her first book of the series Cape Cod Memory Makers. The book was set in the town of Falmouth and carried by Eight Cousins bookstore. The book was about two children visiting Cape Cod and touring Falmouth. It was an interactive book for children and parents. The children read about interesting places in the town, the parents took them to those places, and pages were provided for the children to record their own personal memories. The book was a big hit and sold many copies.
Guess what town is next? Mine! Cape Cod Memory Makers Sandwich came out last week and will be sold right here within walking distance of my house at Titcomb’s Bookstore on 6A. So if you are coming to visit me this summer with your children, please stop in, grab a copy and take your children on a tour of this historic town. They can then record their own personal Sandwich adventures and have a terrific Cape Cod keepsake.
Kudos and big congrats to my friend Joan Walsh and the illustrator Anne Sessions Barber on the launch of Cape Cod Memory Makers Explore the Town of Sandwich. Please support us fledgling writers by sharing this post on your page and on twitter. Thanks!
And so, as another day goes by, once again I’m inspired by the building of a writing career, and…I have written.
April 12th, 2013 That’s right. I forgot. I forgot how hard it was to write lesson plans, create learning centers, and gather up all the materials. I am teaching my Young Authors Workshop in Boston next week during school vacation. I have six little gifted authors and want to give them a great writing experience.
Two months ago I sat down with books and wrote the lesson plan for all five days by hand. I was really excited about the design of the course and the activities. Since I didn’t have to teach it until April, I felt smugly done. Now April is here. I set aside today and tomorrow to do the artwork for the center signs and type up the lessons. Well, I clearly forgot how long that took.
I went to fit club and did all my errands to prepare for next week. I’m staying with a lovely host family and needed to get all my food and medications to take with me. I arrived home at noon, just as I planned. So cozy. Soup for lunch on a damp rainy day. News, soap operas, and hot coffee. I figured I’d start to work on the artwork at two. I started right on time….and didn’t finish until seven. Finished for the day, that is.
All the centers displayed on my dining room table, sign on the easel, I ventured to the computer to type the plans. Wow. I got to day three and my shoulders ached so much I had to click, save, and leave it for tomorrow. And there are still things I have to pick up at the store, pack my clothes, and package everything into a traveling classroom. Phew. I can’t believe this was my everyday life three years ago.
When I started this project (check out the iTeach button on the left) all I could remember was the excitement of teaching children new things, the joy I get out of seeing their uniqueness and creativity, coupled with that moment when the light flips on and they “get it”. I remembered the fun they have making a complete mess when they are so immersed in their work. I remembered the pride they exhibited sitting in that authors chair when it was their turn to share their literary creation. The one thing I didn’t remember was the hours of work it took to create those experiences. Remembering teaching is like remembering childbirth – you know – that part where you forget the pain?
And so, as another day goes by, sitting here now, I realize all the children the children in my life have always brought more joy than pain, and…I have written.
April 11th, 2013 If you click on the “I Practice” icon in the upper left of my blog page, (link for those reading on the Cape Cod Children’s Writers page)
Another Day Goes By
you will be amazed at the wonderful writing education you could get at this site. I get them emailed to me everyday and I am constantly amazed at the simple, yet so important, things I have learned to improve my writing. If you took 15 minutes and did each daily exercise it would be like being in a perpetual writing course.
Today’s was so good I had to highlight it for all my writing buddies. There are four words – so very simple ones, that sneak into your prose, and, without you realizing it, just sabotage the quality of your writing. Did you see them? I just used all four in the preceding sentence and I bet you can’t pick them out. That’s how subtle they are. As I keep writing, they keep popping up. Oh, what’s a writer to do with these sneaks? The link below shows you how remove them and strengthen your writing.
If you want to know what the four words are, follow this link and begin performing major surgery on your best pieces. Once you know what the four words are, come back and see how many I’ve used in this post. Aghhh! Lol! (FYI – I didn’t put them in on purpose – I just wrote it! – Sneaky!)
Four Words That Are Killing Your Prose
And so, as another day goes by, how many things sneak into our days and sabotage us, needing to be cut out, and…I have written.
April 10th, 2013 I just got home from my Cape Cod Children’s Writers critique group. Since I’m not writing right now because I’m illustrating, I didn’t bring a piece to share. I brought some of my artwork for the book I’m working on, shared that and sat back to listen carefully to the readings of the night.
Tonight was a rather quiet night there for me. Instead of my usual exuberance I found myself sitting a bit away from the group on the floor, against a wall. As we were going around the circle critiquing some really beautiful stories some of us disagreed on certain story elements. One person would say “I didn’t like the part where..” and another person would say “oh I liked that part”. Hmmm…seems confusing for the author. At the end of the night you get all six copies of the critique. They mention some of the same things, but they also differ in a lot of ways.
I remember bringing critiques of my work home and spreading them all out on the counter. At first I was intimidated by the suggestions. What if I didn’t like some of them? Was I wrong not to use them? What if some of the suggestions just didn’t feel right to me? Did I have to do what other people tell me to do?
I did what I always do when faced with such indecision. I asked God to lead me. And then I listened. In the quiet the answer came. I can choose. It’s great to get my work critiqued, the suggestions are educational and often helpful, but in the end – the work is mine and I get to choose.
Never loose sight that you are the artist of your life. It’s your heart that’s on the line. Though others listen and help, it’s up to you, in the end, to choose the right colors and the medium to bring your subject to life. Choose. Because you can.
And so, as another day goes by, it’s okay to do what’s right for you, and…I have written.
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